Catharine Bramkamp - Real Estate Diva 04 - Trash Out (22 page)

“Three days!”  I clicked off
her call in mid protest
and transferred back to my grandmother.

“I’ll be right up.”

Chapter
12

September is warm everywhere
in California. The
season
overrides our
typical
microclimates and everyone, from LA to Tahoe
,
shares
perfect weather. 

I happily
abandoned the winery, the office, poor Patricia and
drove back up to Claim Jump.

Ben called
while I was in transit
.  “I’m missing you.  Are you headed back to the house?”

The trees
were
dusty and just about to turn color
.
Once
the wedding
was
over, I t
hought
I’
d
stay
in Claim Jump
until the November rains.  I can’t believe how much of a pull, a desire, to be in this place,
and how
easily I leave River’s Bend
behind
. 

“I’m headed back, Debbie apparently missed her day at the council.”

“I know
.
I was there last night.”

“Aren’t you the local already.”

“Just wanted to keep our house on track.  The floor is fixed by the way. And I need to take care of a few things in Marin, so I’m head
ing
back
down
.  When are you back?”

“Soon, the shower is this weekend.  How is Cassandra doing?”
I failed to mention O’Reilly’s hidden agenda, if Ben hadn’t
noticed,
I wasn’t going to point it out.

“The new assistant is
apparently
helping, I’m working on convincing
Cassandra
to attend poor Fred’s memorial service, but she doesn’t want to
, she says she needs to oversee this Beth. If anything, I’ll go
.”

“Tell her to put on her big girl panties and go
herself,
”  I
regretfully channeled my mother
, but the voice in my head was right, you
do the right thing
:
that was a rule.

“I’ll
tell her
,
” Ben chuckled.  “Miss you.  Let’s meet in the same town one of these days.”

As I walked back and forth
between the car and the
Main Street
house, moving
another dozen boxes of books
,
I could hear the rising chatter of a crowd gathering in front of the library.

Prue circled around the house to my driveway.  “Are you going to come to the meeting?”

I nodded to the librar
y.
“Emergency Brotherhood of Cornish Men meeting?”

“We are brainstorming on who saw Debbie last and where she could be now.”

“Did anyone call her house
?
”

My grandmother
harrumphed
and marched
back around the block
to join her cohort.

I
consider
ed
attending, but those ladies are intimidating
.  And
even
though I was armed
with an engagement ring, they
would
still quiz me about my next plans.

My plan
,
my plan.
  I wandered around the house envisioning the placement of the furniture Pat and Mike ordered. It would arrive well after
Carrie’s
wedding, but that was okay
, by then I’ll be able to focus on something as pleasant and mundane as decorating
. 

We
already had
a bed,
but little else, so in the
end
, my grandmother triumphed and
I accepted a couple of antique chairs from Prue, just in case someone needed to sit down in the front rooms.
Our house
still smelled
vagu
ely of sage but I felt lighter as I moved from room to room
.
I reached for my phone.
A little cleansing may be exactly what I needed to help along Penny’s house sale. Not even
the
plastic st
atue of Saint Joseph buried upside down in the
back yard was helping.

My phone buzzed before I could find Donna’s number. 
“Did you hear the news?” Carrie
demanded
.
What happened to
h
ello?  How are you?  I am fine, thank you.  No?  We are an impatient society.

“
D
o the Furies want to change all the colors to blue?  They don’t like the napkins after all?  They want to start completely over?  No, no
, even more incredible,
they want our caterer after all.”

“It’s not all about the shower
,”
s
he said severely.

“
Everything
feels
like
it’s all about
the shower
.”

“Trisha G
au
lt
regained consciousness
.”

“That’s it?  That’s your news?”

“It’s better than death.”

“True,” I mused.  “Did she say anything?”

“No one’s allowed to talk to her yet.  Chris Connor
our favorite
reporter,
is foaming at the mouth and won’t leave the hospital
b
ut Trisha’s family and her staff take turns protecting her from any visitors, wanted or unwanted.  She won’t even see Patrick
.”
  She paused
,
 
“
w
hen are you coming back?” 

I was dying to find out
what the members of the
Brotherhood
decided to do about Debbie’s
disappearance
.  I wanted to check in with Penny’s
house
as well as Sarah’s
property
. I was a coward and wanted to stay up here, safe, until the
morning
of the shower.

“Do you need me?”
I finally asked.

“We have our final fittings Friday, you have to be there.” 

“I’ll be there.
”
My reprieve was short lived
after all
.
I sighed and gazed outside at Main Street.  The late afternoon was quiet and welcoming.  I promised Prue I’d join her for dinner.  For once I’d walk.

I turned off the phone and headed down Main Street determined to focus on appreciating the town and the weather
but
I was interrupted
before I could take a breath and just be, or be in the moment, or something
like that. 

“Allison?
Allison Little?
”

I turned at my name.  “Yes?” 
I
was
being
hailed by a tall woman, meaning she was taller than me
, with short
dark hair fram
ing
a pleasant face
. 
She wasn’t a great beauty
,
but probably had been pretty enough to win
the title of
Prom Queen in high school. 

“Allison Little.  I recognized you from your ads.”

Ah.
“Yes, I’m listing Penny Master’s house.”
I said automatically.
  Please need a house, a new house, a house built to take advantage of the view.
 
A long sweeping view.

“And Sarah Miller’s
,
” 
s
he
nodded. 

I must have looked a little blank.

“I’m
sorry, I’m
Sheldon
Sisley
.
You don’t know me, we weren’t in the same class
in
h
igh
s
chool, but I
feel I know you, your grandmother speaks so highly of you.”

I forestalled saying
once
again that I did not attend high school here.  I smiled and rolled with it, she could be a potential client after all. “So where do you live now?” 

Sheldon hesitated as if she had to think about where she lived.  I understood.  “
I live in the city, but my parents aren’t well, so I’m up here more. 
I just attended my first Brotherhood meeting.”  She glanced back at the library as if the group may have followed her out.
“
You
know Debbie don’t you?”
 

“We’re acquainted.”  I
automatically
distanced myself from my grandmother’s
bête
noir.

“
She’s missing, no one knows where she is.
  She doesn’t answer her phone.
And d
id you hear?  The co-housing unit may
have to
close, something about unsafe practices and code violations.”

“Wow,
d
idn’t they get all that covered before they built?”

Sheldon nodded, then considered.  “You know, I grew up here, but I didn’t spend much of my adult life here.”

A
line of
motorcycle
s
rolled by in a sonic wave of ear splitting sound.  I wasn’t fooled by their noisy bravado.  Those guys dress tough but they are just as likely accountants and CPAs than serious bad
asses
. 

I nodded, because she couldn’t hear me if I spoke.

“But it seems pretty coincidental that just when
Debbie
is finally
getting close to the number of people she needs to file
the class action suit against Lucky Masters, this is filed against the co-housing.  She’s president this year, she
is personally
liable,
that’s
how they set it up.
And now no one knows where she is.  And they all met to discuss it
.
”
  Her voice was filled with both wonder and awe. 

We both glanced up at the library, there was movement inside, but the bulk of the Brotherhood had yet to emerge.  I wondered how Sheldon had escaped so early.  Suzanne Chatterhill had a reputation for
running her meetings long and tight.  She never allowed anyone to leave before she said so.

“Congratulations on getting out early.”  I complimented her.

“I have to get back to my mother.”  

What do you d
o in a small town to make friends?  Is it still possible to
acquire
new friends? I contemplated the problem as I trudged up the hill to Grandma
’
s.  I know,
up the hill to grandma’s house -
it sounds like the Christmas carol.

“I just met Sheldon Something on the street.”
I walked in through the kitchen
as
Prue
opened
the front door.
S
he got a ride up the hill and I did not.

“Her last name is
Something
?”
Prue
limped into the kitchen.
  I had already lined up the vodka and olives.  She passed by me and fished out a small package of chicken.

“Very funny.
  You know, even though you insisted that I’d like her, I kind of like her.”
  I shook up the first martini.

“Don’t you hate it when
I’m right
?” Prue
waved a large butcher knife over a small chicken breast. 

I handed her a martini and started to create my own. 
“Where are the boys?”

“
S
ymphony meeting.”

I was still chewing on the friend idea.
“So
w
h
at do I do? Do I invite her for
dinner?  Do we text? Friend her?  Do
we
do lunch?”

“Invite her for coffee,
” she wacked the chicken. “Don’t
over tax yourself on your first friendship try.”

Sometimes Grandma is very sarcastic.

And while we’re issuing kudos, no one can dry out a chicken breast like my grandmother. 
Fortunately I managed to drink two
martinis
before facing dinner.
I cleared enough magazines
from the kitchen table
to make a spot for plates and glasses.  Even surrounded by an abundance of words and color pictures, it was not enough to distract me from the meal.
I gazed mournfully at the desiccated
fowl
breast, chewed down two
halfhearted
bites then conceded defeat and
resorted to choking down the
microwaved string beans.